Masquerade
by cake-error
Summary: "A flash of bright blue shone from under the glittering mask. Spinning around to face her again, he opened his mouth to ask her. But she was already gone." Fem!Germany and lots of fluff.


**Masquerade**

Inspired by my Venetian mask from Italia. (bought it in Venice!)

* * *

"Unpredictable" was a good word to describe Italy.

Of course, it was easy to figure out where he was. His entry was usually preceded by a-

"Ve~"

She started, knocking papers askew and nearly upsetting the pencil cup. Italy stood in the doorway, ditzy smile as bright as usual.

"Mr. Austria is holding a masquerade, and all of us will be there." By us, of course, he meant to countries. "Are you coming?"

She consulted her schedule. "I think I have a meeting with my boss. So no, I can't come."

His face fell. "Oh." He left.

Sighing melancholically, she returned to her work. Those sad eyes, that puppy dog face! But she couldn't just shirk off work and ignore her boss…

A loud beeping noise punctuated her thoughts. She jumped, startled for the second time in so many minutes, and located the source of the strident sound. It was her phone.

_Meeting cancelled._ Those two words flashed on the screen. That meant…

…_that I can go._ Humming thoughtfully, she began to plot. It might turn out well after all…

!_!_!_!_!_!

He sighed again, back against the wall, standing alongside his brother and Spain, who was currently hugging said nation. Romano paused to look at him concernedly, in all his tomato-like splendor. "Why don't you find someone to dance with?"

He immediately shot back, "Why don't you?"

Assuming a hurt expression, he retorted, "I can't quite dance right now." He gestured at his arms, which were still trapped in a hug.

He relented. "Fine." And so began his slow meander across the dance floor…

!_!_!_!_!_!

Buried deep in her closet was a long, shimmery blue silk dress. Luckily, it still fit. She donned it, slipped on a pair of low heels, and retrieved a mask from its box. Now to actually get there…

She hurried up the steps, shoes clattering against each marble step. Adjusting her mask one last time, she swept into the room and looked around.

!_!_!_!_!_!

Sighing again, he found himself staring at a woman picking her way across the room through throngs of dancing couples. Her simply cut blue dress clung to her and fell to the floor in languid folds as she swept across the marble floor. Atop her glittering Venetian mask was a bright blue feathered hat, adorned with flowers. Her blond hair was combed back and tucked behind her ears, shining in the light of the chandelier. Eyes cast down, she seemed to be searching for someone.

Swallowing whatever pride he had, he plastered his trademark beam on his face and held one hand forward in a silent invitation to dance.

She took it.

!_!_!_!_!_!

The waltzing gavotte slowed and finally stopped. The crowds dispersed, slowly filtering out of the hall. he let go of her hand, and inclined his head as he turned to leave. "It was nice meeting you…"

She nodded and looked up at him. A flash of bright blue shone from under the glittering mask.

Spinning around to face her again, he opened his mouth to ask her. But she was already gone.

!_!_!_!_!_!

As soon as she heard that telltale gasp, she twirled around (quite dramatically) and ran. He had seen, _he had seen._ Not slowing until she was well away from the building, she clattered down the sidewalks, clutching the loose fabric of her dress and ignoring pointed looks from passersby.

She wasted no time in returning home. For all intents and purposes, she had never been anywhere near. No, she would have to be careful.

!_!_!_!_!_!

Italy wandered over to where Hungary stood, face flushed, and holding Prussia's arm.

"Was Germany supposed to be here?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "No. She had a meeting, didn't she?" She looked at Gilbert for confirmation, which he provided in the form of a nod. "Why?"

He assumed a carefree expression. "No reason!" He smiled brightly again and made his way back through the crowd to his brother.

!_!_!_!_!_!

He swung by the next day.

"So," he began, a puzzled expression on his face. "How was your meeting?"

She chose her word carefully. "The meeting was canceled."

"So you were free, then?"

Hesitating before answering, she said, "I suppose I was."

"Hm." He gave a small noise of assent. To evade the question he was bound to pose, she stood up abruptly and carried a small stack of papers out of the room.

!_!_!_!_!_!

The door swung shut, and he cast his eyes about the room.

A blue feather sat on the edge of her desk.

He grinned.

As soon as she entered the room again, he flung his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. "I didn't know you were so good at dancing, hm?" He whispered in her ear as he twirled them around. She responded with a furiously bright blush.

"Maybe we should try that again some time." Was all she said.

!_!_!_!_!_!

~OMAKE~

!_!_!_!_!_!

Spain smiled down at Romano. "I'm sure he'll be here soon, after all, it was his boss's idea!" This was met with a scowl.

Sounds of another chattering group entering the room could be heard, as well was the swishing of fabric and the clacking of shoes.

Snatches of their conversation filtered in.

"I swear, Hungary, never again. Never."

"Aw, come on, you'll live. The dress isn't that bad."

"At least _I_ like it."

Laughter rang out, and the doors finally swung open. Hungary swept in, Prussia smirking evilly at his sister. Italy looked happy, at least. Then his jaw dropped.

His brother smiled at him. "This is fun, isn't it?"

* * *

I'll leave the imagining of her dress to you all. *wink wink* Suffice it to say that it was possibly the most revealing ball gown in all of history…


End file.
